The Dark Wind: 'Akée'di Hózhó Hasin
by San Antonio Rose
Summary: After Stull, Monster Slayer doesn't quite know how to carry on without Thousand Books. But maybe this wayward son hasn't found peace because neither of them is done yet. And Dean does have friends in... odd places. (Dinéchesters AU, het)


A/N: Apologies for the delay, but here at last is the end of this arc! At present, I don't have any other stories planned in this AU—but you know I seldom say never...

Many thanks to my fabulous betas for this series, kcrenegade and jennytork!

This story both picks up from the end of "'Akóhájí Doogááł" and overlaps the epilogue of "When the Badger Grows Horns. There are also a few lines borrowed from "Swan Song," "Exile on Main Street," and "Weekend at Bobby's."

* * *

The Dark Wind: 'Akée'di Hózhǫ́ Hasin  
by San Antonio Rose

When it was over, when he'd seen Bobby back to Sioux Falls and had what might well be his last conversation with Cas, Dean drifted to a stop somewhere in Wisconsin. He then proceeded to spend one day drunk on whatever rotgut he could find and one day sick as a dog and taking a good hard look at himself in the mirror.

He knew what he'd promised Sammy, and part of him wanted to follow through... but he couldn't inflict himself on Lisa and Ben. Not like this. They didn't deserve his mess. Not when he had another option that would let him get himself together before he went back to them.

Next morning, he checked out and made a beeline for Arizona.

The ranch wasn't the same without Grandmother or Amá Sání, of course, and he missed them both terribly. But Grandfather and Great-Aunt Sarah were still there when he arrived after a day and a half on the road, still welcoming him back to the closest thing to home he'd had since he was four. They didn't press after he told them what had happened in the fewest words possible. And they didn't stop him when he wandered out to the corral to tell Aggie they couldn't say Sam's name anymore. Sometimes he thought that horse was the only being on the planet that loved Sammy as much as he did.

Somehow he found himself sitting on her back and not really caring much as she jumped the corral fence and cantered away to the secluded hogan he and Sam had built a few years back, when they read Mom's journal for the first time. When they got there, she stopped and looked around at him.

"He isn't here, girl," he said quietly in Navajo.

She huffed.

He slid off her back and walked up to the little log structure, put a hand on the wall and closed his eyes as a fresh wave of grief washed over him. When he looked back at Aggie again, her ears were back and her eyes were sad.

"What are we supposed to do, Ags?"

Her ears twitched a little, and he suddenly understood. She felt as lost as he did.

There was some beer buried in one corner of the hogan to keep semi-cool, he remembered. He went in, dug it up, and drank it all. Then he stumbled back out and climbed onto Aggie's back. But rather than taking him back to Grandfather's, Aggie raced off to the nearest stream and tossed him off in the middle of it, then grabbed the back of his shirt and dunked him repeatedly until he sobered up enough to get her to stop.

"All right, all right, point taken!" he grumbled as he climbed out of the water.

She snorted and tossed her head, and he could almost hear her think _Idjit!_ at him.

And she did have a point, he realized as he stripped down to his boxers and laid his clothes on a rock to dry. Drinking too much in the desert was dangerous, both because of the hazards of dehydration and because of the lack of awareness of other dangers like snakes and gopher holes. He knew that. He did need to quit, especially if he was ever going to get back to Ben and Lisa.

That still left the problem of what to do about the aching, gaping hole in his heart from losing Sam. There were things he could avoid, like speaking English, and things he could do around the ranch to keep himself busy, but still...

Satisfied that he was done making a fool of himself, Aggie splashed out of the stream and lay down next to him with a quiet huff. He scratched her between the ears for a bit, and then they just sat there, man and horse, sun and wind, sand and water, a sight the land had known from time immemorial.

_Please_, he found himself thinking. _If anyone, anywhere, is listening... I want my brother back._

No answer came.

By the time his clothes were dry, the sun and the booze had made him light-headed again. He stumbled down to the stream and drank, then splashed his head and neck until he felt cooler and more sober. Then he soaked his feet while the rest of him dried off, and finally he went back to his clothes and got dressed again. Aggie took the hint and got up for a drink of water herself, and by the time he was ready to leave, she was ready to take him.

The same thing happened about a week later, minus the beer. Dean was fairly sure it hadn't been a conscious decision on the part of man or horse; they just wandered off together and... waited for a while. He didn't even know what they were waiting for, just that they were waiting for something. A vision, a hunt, anything. The third time it happened, they went far enough out that they ended up spending the night at the brothers' hogan and didn't get back to Grandfather's until after lunch the next day.

After that, although he enjoyed working on the ranch and spending time with Grandfather, and with Cas when he stopped by, Dean kind of started to look forward to going off with Aggie and just hanging out for a while. He seldom had a plan. He might pack a meal or two, but he didn't really care if he ended up staying out for more days than he'd planned. It wasn't like he'd never gone hungry before; he'd live. A couple of times he thought they might be getting close to Abalone Shell Mountain, but he was never sure because he'd never been there in daylight before, and it didn't seem to matter anyway. And once in a while Aggie wasn't interested in going anywhere, so he'd take one of his own horses. Somehow, though, even though they never found anything more exciting than pine nuts, the wanderings he took with Aggie felt better and more fruitful. Not that he didn't like his other horses, but Aggie... Aggie missed Sam as much as he did. And she was more willing to just _go_ if he let her have her head, whereas the other horses usually needed him to have a destination in mind.

Dean rode Aggie out yet again in late September, about four months after Sam had jumped. She wandered until she found an interesting stream, and while she drank and grazed, he dismounted and sat down under a scrubby pine tree. He watched her go about her business and tried not to think about... about anything, really. He was just waiting.

Until an irritated British voice stated, "You're attracting attention."

"I did not call for you, my grandfather," Dean replied quietly in Navajo, not looking around at the speaker.

Death responded in English. "I'm aware of that, and I'm aware of why. But that doesn't excuse this unseemly behavior. You've been leaving your guard down for far too long. And have you any idea of the power in these fasts and vision quests of yours? The pagans are beginning to sit up and take notice, and it won't be long before you catch _Raphael's_ attention."

Dean sighed, unable to care much either way.

"What will it take to make you stop?"

Dean finally dragged his eyes up to meet Death's, but he still spoke Navajo. "I want my brother back."

Death nodded thoughtfully. "Would you be willing to do a little something for me in return?"

"Name it, my grandfather."

"There's a hunt that will come your way very shortly. If you will take that hunt and follow it to its logical conclusion, I shall retrieve your brother for you."

Dean stood. "I need Sam back first."

"You're hardly in a position to bargain, Dean."

"I'll take the hunt, and I'll give you your ring back. But I'm not hunting without Sam."

Death seemed unsure whether to be annoyed or amused, but he finally replied, "Very well. On the condition that if you fail either to complete the hunt or to return my ring at its conclusion, Sam's life is forfeit."

"I'll do it, I swear."

"All right. Wait here." And he vanished.

Dean swayed a little, unsure that he hadn't just been dreaming. Aggie pricked up her ears and walked over to him.

And mere seconds later, she whinnied and shied back in surprise as Death reappeared, holding a very weak Sam upright.

"Sammy," Dean breathed, starting forward.

Death held up one bony finger, and Dean paused. "Remember our bargain, Dean."

"The first hunt that comes," Dean repeated. "To its right end."

Death nodded. "You've an idea what he's been through. I make no guarantees as to the condition of his soul or mind. But here, for better or worse, is your brother." He continued to support Sam long enough for Dean to take his weight, then stepped away. "I shall be waiting," he said, and then he vanished again.

And Dean was left with one barely conscious, very floppy, very heavy, very warm, and very _real_ Sam, who frowned blearily at him. "D'n?"

"_Yáát'ééh_, Sammy," Dean breathed. "Come on, let me take you to Grandfather."

"_Wie, b'tte?_"

Oh, great. Dean understood the disclaimer now. "Come on, Thousand Books." He looked over at Aggie, unsure how he was going to haul Sam up onto her back, but she knelt down long enough for him to get both of them settled before standing up again and reaching around to nuzzle Sam's knee.

"Wh... uh... D'n?"

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him tight against his chest for support. Then he looked over Sam's shoulder at Aggie and grinned in spite of himself. "We found him, girl."

Aggie neighed joyfully, which startled Sam, and then took off for home at a gallop. As soon as they were within earshot of Grandfather's hogan, both she and Dean started calling for Grandfather, and a very shocked Grandfather ran out to meet them as they rode up to the hogan. Sam roused enough to ask for water in Gaelic and, when Dean gave him holy water, to comment on its taste in English, but then he passed out and stayed passed out while Dean and Grandfather got him cleaned up and onto a bed.

And then Cas showed up with news that Crowley was holding Bobby's soul for ransom.

Dean could not for the life of him figure out why Death had felt the need to put such a condition on _this_ hunt, as if Bobby's life and Crowley's past treachery weren't incentive enough for him to waste the demon once and for all. The reasoning became clearer once they got to Sioux Falls and Bobby filled them in on his plan to use Crowley's bones as leverage to get out of the deal. Not only did that mean going to Scotland, which meant flying, but Dean also suspected that the logical conclusion Death wanted did not involve Crowley's survival. So he kept his own deal to himself, quietly dug up Death's ring, and suggested that, because of the time crunch, they take Angel Air instead of bothering with passports and customs. And when Bobby's contract was canceled and Crowley turned up in Scotland to retrieve his bones, Dean threatened to burn them anyway.

"Dean," Sam said wearily, "a deal is a deal."

"It sure as hell is," Dean replied—and threw his lighter into the pool of kerosene in the middle of Crowley's bones.

As Crowley went up in flames, Sam rounded on Dean. "_Dude!_ What the hell—"

"_Save_ it, Sam. I'll explain in a minute."

"At least he'll explain as much as he can," Death observed, appearing just beyond the fire. And he popped the end of a deep-fried Mars bar into his mouth before holding out his hand and looking at Dean expectantly.

Dean swallowed hard, pulled the ring out of his pocket, and dropped it into Death's hand, ignoring Sam's incredulous stare.

Death nodded and swallowed. "Thank you, Dean. Crowley was preparing to embark on some explorations that would have upset the natural order far more than you two ever will. You _are_ annoying little protozoa, but you do have your uses." And he slipped his ring on.

Dean didn't know what to say to that.

"So. Crowley is no longer a threat; you are no longer haunting the desert; and Sam is no longer in the Cage. Not a bad day's work, I'd say. And now, if you'll excuse me..."

"_Ahéhee', shicheii_," Dean finally managed.

Death looked faintly amused and vanished.

* * *

"He _what?!_" Bobby roared.

On the other end of the phone, Sam sighed. "He swears that's the whole of it. Kill Crowley, give the ring back, we're both in the clear. And Cas... did this... thing to make sure. Hurt like hell, but we both check out. No other claims."

"That Monster Slayer sure takes his nickname literally, don't he? Idjit."

"Well, it worked. And apparently Death was worried enough about what Crowley was up to that he was willing to offer the deal in the first place."

Bobby huffed, unable to argue with that. "What about you? How you holdin' up?"

"Honestly? Fine. I mean, I'm still gettin' used to bein' back, and I've got forty years of nightmare material still in the back of my head even though Cas dulled the memories, but... I dunno... I'm here. I'm in one piece. Guess that's all I have a right to ask for—more, maybe." Sam paused. "Oh, wait, here's Dean. Hold on." There was a muffled "It's Bobby" as Sam apparently moved the phone away from his ear, and then the sound quality changed when he put it on speaker.

"Hey, Bobby!" said a very cheerful Dean.

"Dean," Bobby returned, "do you have any idea..."

"How weird it is for a Navajo to be best buds with Death? Yeah, well, I try not to think about it too much. Your legs still okay?"

"That wasn't my question, but yeah, I'm fine."

"Awesome." Dean's tone of voice made it quite clear that he was not about to entertain further questions on the subject of the deal. And really, how many people he knew other than Bobby would recognize the difference between what he had done and the necromancy that characterized the much-hated Witchery Way?

So Bobby sighed and let the matter drop with, "Well, the deed's done. You boys headed on back this way now?"

"Actually, we figured we'd hang out for a few days. Go down to Inveraray, figure out what it means to be Campbells other than, y'know, hunting."

"Cas has some stuff to take care of Upstairs," Sam added, "so he said he'd come back in a week to take us home. Hey, y'know, Inverness is on the way; we should stop and see if we can get a glimpse of Nessie."

Dean laughed. "Sure thing, Sasquatch."

Bobby chuckled. "All right. Just give me a call, y'hear?"

"Of course," they chorused.

"Bye, Bobby," Sam concluded and hung up.

Bobby was still trying to process what he'd just learned when his phone rang again—the Singer Salvage line, with a Missouri number he didn't recognize. Frowning a little, he picked up. "Singer Salvage."

"Mr. Singer?" asked a worried female voice. "I hope I haven't called at a bad time... Sam Winchester gave me your name a few years back, and... well, I need someplace to stay for a while, and if I can, I'd like to try to get in touch with Sam. I was wondering if you could help me."

"Sure," he replied, reaching for his journal of contacts. Sheriff Mills could put the girl up, if nothing else. "What's your name?"

"Jessica Moore."

Bobby nearly dropped the phone in shock.

* * *

As promised, early one morning a week later, Cas met Sam and Dean in Inveraray, which had been both awesome and incredibly awkward. (Seriously, they'd thought they got weird looks for speaking Gaelic in the States...) And as promised, Cas took them back to Bobby's house, arriving sometime after dark—Sam wasn't sure what time it was, since he'd only been topside for a week and wasn't quite up on time zones outside the US. But for some reason, they landed outside the house, next to where they'd left the Impala.

"... Cas?" Dean prompted.

Cas looked around. "Bobby requested that I not bring you straight into the house. He didn't say why."

Just then Bobby looked out the kitchen window and waved them forward. That was kind of odd, too, but he might have been in the middle of something. So Sam and Dean exchanged a look and a shrug, and they and Cas walked on into the house, heading straight for the kitchen and not paying much attention to the state of the rest of the house.

Bobby was fiddling with something on the kitchen table and had his back to them, but he finally looked around and smiled when they'd all gotten several steps onto the linoleum. "Hi, boys."

"Hey, Bobby," Sam returned with a grin.

And suddenly he heard a gasp and a "Sam?!" from behind him.

Startled, Sam turned... and his mouth fell open. Her face was a little scarred, but he'd know her anywhere. "J-Jess?!"

Jess nodded, her eyes bright with tears.

"What—but—_how?_"

"Dad's dead, from that swine flu outbreak this spring. And I got an annulment."

Sam turned to Dean, whose eyes looked ready to pop out of his head, and then at Bobby, who nodded and abandoned his project on the table. "I checked her out, son. She's clean."

Jess took a step forward. "Sam?"

Sam gulped down a couple of breaths and then swept her into a hug and a deep, passionate kiss. And the way she kissed back told him she'd missed him just as much as he'd missed her. He could almost see Dean rolling his eyes exaggeratedly and looking away, but he didn't care. At all.

"Marry me," he breathed as they came up for air.

"Wait, Sam, first—"

And a small voice called from halfway up the stairs, "Moooommyyy, I'm thiiirstyyyy..."

Sam just about swallowed his teeth.

"Wait here," Jess whispered as she slipped out of his arms and dashed to intercept the kid, closing the sliding door behind her before he could focus on the other room.

Sam and Dean looked at each other again, completely at a loss, and back at Bobby, who looked pleased as punch. "Bobby, what—" Dean whispered.

Bobby held up his hands to shush all of them, even though Cas hadn't said a word yet. "Just hold tight. Let her tell you."

Sam could barely breathe as he listened to Jess murmur to her kid and get him settled in the living room for the moment. When she came back and closed the door again, she, too, held up a hand and looked him in the eye. "First things first," she said quietly, clearly not wanting the kid to overhear. "Yes, Sam, he's yours."

Sam gulped. "Are... are you..."

She nodded. "Guess it happened just a few days before Brady attacked. I found out right after Thanksgiving, after I had Luis send you that card. Part of me was thrilled to have something to hold onto in case something happened to you, but I was so afraid Dad would force me to have an abortion, so Luis and my doctors helped me cover it up. I wouldn't even let Luis tell you, just in case. Then Dad sprung the wedding on me, and I... I let Brad think I got pregnant on our wedding night. Never had much sex after that, even after the baby was born; we both knew there wasn't really a spark there, and as much as he travels for work, he hadn't actually wanted kids. But he was okay with having one as long as the baby had a good Texan name, so... I named him John Robert. Brad called him John Bob; I call him Johnny."

Sam swallowed hard and tried not to cry.

"But then, a few months before Johnny was due, Brad suddenly got jealous of Luis. I have no idea why. Anyway, he packed me up, and we moved in the middle of the night. Ended up in Gatewood, Missouri; we've been there ever since. I thought it was a nice little town... until this fall, when Johnny started to school. He's so bright, we decided to let him start Pre-K and thought he'd do okay. But the first week he came home crying every day because the other kids thought he looked funny and wouldn't play with him, and their parents started asking whether he was adopted. It's not like Brad hadn't noticed that Johnny's dark—Brad's dense, but not that dense—but apparently there was some Cherokee back in the family tree somewhere, so once he'd gotten over the shock, he'd written it off as a genetic fluke. And then... then Johnny's teacher said something about him reminding her of a little boy who wouldn't speak English, back when she taught kindergarten."

Dean frowned. "Wait, Gatewood was where—" He broke off with a quiet Gaelic curse. "You mean he got stuck with _Miss Thistle-brain?!_"

Jess stifled a giggle. "Twenty-five years later, the name still fits. She had no idea." Then she sighed and looked at Sam again. "But Brad finally noticed that Johnny's starting to take after you more, and he realized that Johnny might not be his son. He demanded a paternity test. And then he demanded an annulment, didn't even want visitation rights. Poor Johnny's been devastated—not that they've been close, but Brad's the only dad he's ever known. I didn't know what I was going to do... but somehow I found this really awesome lawyer who took me on _pro bono_. He told my side, and he really worked miracles. Brad gets the house, but I get my inheritance from Dad and full custody of Johnny. Mom's disowned me, but... I'm free. So my answer is yes."

Sam swallowed hard and walked up to her. "Jess, I... I still want to marry you, but... there's some things you should know. Things that could matter to a kid."

"I already do, Sam. Mr. Singer filled me in, but... well, Johnny has always had very vivid dreams about these two brothers; they're brown like him. He calls them Nami and Nezi."

"Nami and Nezi—"

"_Naaltsoos-miil_ and _Naayéé' Neizgháníi_," Dean concluded, gobsmacked. "Thousand Books and Monster Slayer."

"Fascinating," Cas said. "It seems—"

"Cas, would you save the genetics lesson for later?" Dean didn't seem any happier about potentially letting the demon blood thing slip than Sam was.

Sam shook his head. "That's... I mean, our lives aren't exactly the stuff of good dreams."

Jess shrugged. "I don't know what all he's dreamed about, but to him, Nami and Nezi are heroes. They kill the monsters in his dreams and keep him safe."

Sam didn't know what to do with the relief that he felt.

Jess put a hand back on the door handle and raised her eyebrows. Sam was having trouble breathing, but he nodded, so she nodded back and slid the door open enough to poke her head through. "Johnny?"

"Hmm?" came the reply.

"There's someone here who wants to meet you."

There was a skeptical silence, and then Jess pushed the door all the way open, and Sam got a good look at the four-year-old huddled miserably on the couch, staring at the floor. Johnny looked _so_ much like Sam, it wasn't even funny.

Sam swallowed hard and took a couple of steps into the room. "Johnny?"

Johnny slowly looked up—and gasped. "Nami?"

Sam smiled. "_Yáát'ééh_."

And the next thing he knew, he was on his knees hugging his son for all he was worth, and they were both crying and babbling nonsense at each other.

"Will you stay?" Johnny finally asked. "My... my daddy doesn't want me anymore. He s-says he's not my real daddy."

Sam's heart shattered. "Oh, buddy. I'll make you a deal, okay? I'll give you an answer, but you gotta learn a new word for me first."

Johnny sniffled and pulled back. "'Kay."

"Okay, the word is _shizhé'é_."

It took a few tries, but Johnny finally got the tones and the stop right. "What's it mean?"

"It means 'my father.' It's Navajo—just like we are."

Johnny's eyes went saucer-wide, and his mouth fell open.

"So when me and your mom get married, you don't have to call me 'Daddy' if you don't want to. You can call me _shizhé'é_."

"Y—you mean..."

"Yeah. I'm your real dad. And Johnny, I want you so much..." Sam couldn't keep his voice from breaking.

Johnny cried out for joy and hugged Sam within an inch of his life.

"Hey," Dean finally interrupted, kneeling down beside them. "What, no hugs for Uncle Nezi?"

Johnny practically tackled him, and Dean laughed and hugged him back.

Cas stepped into the room at that point, staring curiously at Johnny. "I don't understand," he said. "My garrison was unaware that this child existed."

"For good reason," said a voice Sam had never heard before.

Immediately, Sam and Dean were on their feet, facing the newcomer, with Johnny between them. The guy had shaggy brown hair and looked a little on the nerdy side, but the black suit lent itself to only two possible identifications as to _what_ he was. And as well warded as Bobby's house was, the second wasn't terribly likely.

Jess frowned. "Jeff? What are you doing here?"

"You know this guy, Jess?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, he's my lawyer—"

"Not quite," Cas interrupted. "Not at the moment. Hello, Inias."

The newcomer acknowledged the name with a nod before turning back to Jess. "I'm an angel of the Lord, Jess, and I'm John's guardian. Jeff is a good man, and he's also my vessel; I asked him to take your case."

Ignoring Jess' confusion, Cas stepped forward. "Inias, I need your help. Raphael is—"

Inias held up a hand. "I'm sorry, brother. I'm here on Michael's orders."

Everyone froze.

Then Inias smiled gently at Johnny before looking back up at Cas, deadly serious. "You know as well as I what he decreed: were the brothers to have children, those children were not to be used as leverage by either side. This child is off limits. His welfare is my highest concern, no less than if he were a prophet. He is four years old; he needs his father and his uncle as much as he needs his mother. Therefore they, too, are under my protection. These are _Michael's_ standing orders, Castiel, and not even Raphael has the authority to countermand them." A corner of the younger angel's mouth quirked upward slightly at that point. "And you may tell him I said so."

Cas stared at Inias for a moment. "So for Raphael to move against either Sam or Dean or to restart the Apocalypse..."

"Would be an attack on John and therefore counter to Michael's orders and therefore counter to Father's will." Inias' small smile grew another fraction.

Cas processed that logic for a moment longer and then _grinned._

* * *

After Sam discovered that South Dakota didn't have a waiting period for marriages but decided against just going to the JP, Jess was amazed at how quickly the wedding came together. Indeed, the biggest delay was in getting word to Grandpa Joe and the Chees, then giving them time to get to Sioux Falls. Mr. Singer, who insisted that Jess call him Bobby, had a pastor and a cake lined up in no time; quite a few of the brothers' hunting friends "just happened" to be in the area and showed up to help, as did Castiel and Inias and—to everyone's surprise—Gabriel; and Sheriff Mills had a friend with a hunting cabin outside of town who agreed to let Jess and Sam stay there for a couple of nights. The wedding itself was a lovely mix of white and Navajo customs, and Grandpa Joe insisted on being the one to give Jess away. And the wedding night... well, it might not have been quite the same as if they'd been chaste before the marriage, but they'd been waiting for each other for five long years, and _oh_, it was good to have Sam back at last and to know it was for keeps.

As much as she knew Sam wished he could take her on a grand honeymoon trip, though, they couldn't do more than take those two nights at the cabin. Missouri law mandated that if a family with children was dissolved by annulment, the children had to be seen by social workers for a certain period of time afterward, and the first visit was scheduled for the fourth day after the wedding. So they enjoyed themselves thoroughly in the time available and then went back to Bobby's house to help finish making it presentable. Grandpa Joe and Great-Aunt Sarah had stayed behind to help Dean and Bobby look after Johnny, so with all of them pitching in, the place did end up looking at least temporarily tolerable.

But the day before the social worker was slated to come, Grandpa Joe asked Bobby, "Say, what's good game hunting this time of year?"

Bobby scratched his beard and thought. "Well, turkey season just started. It's archery season for deer. As for small game... crow, dove, rabbit, partridge, prairie chicken, squirrel."

"Think tomorrow would be a good day for Johnny's first hunt?"

"He cain't be the one to shoot. Has to be 10 to get a license."

"Oh, no, he's too young for that, sure. Just thought it might be a nice chance for us to take the boys out for a couple of hours."

Bobby shrugged. "What do you think, Sam? He's your son."

Sam considered it. "Turkey sounds pretty safe. Be a good start teaching him about Thanksgiving."

"Considering who taught the Pilgrims," Dean added with a grin. "Think we can get a license, Bobby?"

"I already got one," Bobby replied. "You ain't eligible this far east, but we'll put it on my tag if we can get one. If we're doin' this living-history style, maybe I oughta break out my old muzzle-loader."

"Awesome! We can teach him some gun safety, some tracking..."

"Wait, Sam," Jess interrupted. "The social worker—"

"Isn't coming until 11," Sam countered with a shrug. "We'll be back by then. And the weather's supposed to be gorgeous tomorrow. Grandpa's right; it's a perfect time."

Aunt Sarah chuckled and patted Jess' arm. "Joe knows what he's doing, Jess," she said quietly. "Let the boys have this. The gods know they need it after the last five years."

"N—I—" Jess huffed. "I know, and it-it's not the hunting; it's just—"

"Joe knows the signs. Tomorrow the weather will be good, and so will the game. We have no such knowledge of the day after tomorrow. And Johnny's too young for them to be gone all day; he'll tire in a couple of hours. If they leave at first light, they'll be back in time. You'll see."

Feeling distinctly outnumbered, Jess sighed. "All right. But Sam?"

"Eleven o'clock," Sam repeated. "We'll be here."

They weren't.

Aunt Sarah had stayed behind with Jess, fortunately, so Jess didn't have to deal with the social worker all by herself. She succeeded in remembering to offer holy water to drink (with no reaction, which was a relief) and did do most of the talking herself, explaining the situation and assuring the social worker that they weren't going to be living in the junkyard full time. But as the minutes ticked past and the men still hadn't returned, she was beginning to feel a little frantic.

The third time the social worker looked at her watch, though, Aunt Sarah spoke up. "I'm sorry the menfolk aren't back yet. I'm sure they're on their way, but... well, in this area, you're bound to understand Indian time."

The phrase puzzled Jess, but the social worker seemed to relax a little. "Oh, yes, ma'am. Kind of frustrating for those of us who are tied to a clock, but I get the concept. I just wasn't aware there were native ties in the family."

Suddenly the back door banged open, and Johnny ran in, beaming. "Mommy! Mommy! Unka Bobby shot a turkey! An' the gun goes BANG! And we saw a fox an' a deer an' a buncha rabbits an' all kindsa birds, an' Nezi—I mean Unka Dean—says I'm a real good tracker, an' Nami—I mean Sam—I mean Da-_shizhé'é_—says maybe when I'm 10 I can have a gun that goes bang so I can help Unka Bobby get supper. An' Gran'pa Joe says maybe Aunt Sarah can show you how she makes the stuffing, 'but only if she wants to.'" The way he finally slowed down for that last phrase made it clearly a quote. "Can I help you cook the turkey, Aunt Sarah, _pleeeeeeze?_"

Aunt Sarah laughed. "_Sha'shin, shiyázhí_. We can fix the turkey tomorrow. Now go get Thousand Books, will you? He needs to come talk to this lady."

"Yes, ma'am!" And Johnny raced outside again, calling for Sam and totally oblivious to the social worker's presence.

The social worker was clearly trying not to laugh as she looked at Jess. "Turkey?"

Jess shrugged, not having much success in keeping a smile off her own face. "Apparently we're having Thanksgiving early this year."

"Sounds like he's got a lot to be thankful for."

Jess felt her smile grow more warm than amused. "Yes. Yes, I think we all have."

The back door opened again, and Sam came in holding Johnny's right hand in his left. "Jess, I am _so sorry_. We totally lost track of time out there." He kissed her cheek, then turned and held out his free hand to the social worker with his charming, disarming smile cranked up to 11. "Hi. Sam Remington."

The social worker blushed involuntarily as she shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Do you mind if I get him some lunch before we talk? We had some snacks on the way back, but he's been going full tilt all morning, so it'll probably wear off pretty quick."

"Sam's my real daddy," Johnny piped up proudly, apparently noticing the social worker for the first time and somehow knowing that she needed to know that. "He loves me."

The way Sam smiled down at Johnny left no doubt as to the truth of that statement. And the way Johnny smiled back left no doubt that the feeling was mutual.

"This will just take a minute," the social worker replied to Sam. "Your wife said you're here only temporarily?"

Sam nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We're moving to Cicero, Indiana, next week. My brother and I had been out of the country on business when the annulment went through, and Jess didn't have any current contact information for us except through Bobby."

"Do you expect to be traveling much for business in the future?"

"No, ma'am. We're actually both changing careers; this trip was to wind up the family business. We're applying to local jobs in Cicero, and I, especially, am looking for one that will leave me plenty of time to be home with Jess and Johnny. We don't expect to be going further than Arizona anytime soon."

"Why Arizona?"

Sam nodded toward Aunt Sarah. "My dad's family lives there."

"Hey, Johnny," Dean called as he came in the back door. "Grandfather wants to know if you want him to save you any of the turkey feathers."

Unsure, Johnny looked up at Jess, who looked at Aunt Sarah, who said something to Dean in Navajo. Dean nodded, responded in kind, shot a dazzling smile at the social worker, and left again.

The social worker fanned herself with her notebook as she stared after Dean, and Jess wasn't sure she knew she was doing it. Then she finally focused on Jess again. "Well. You guys sound busy, and it's clear that Johnny is happy and healthy and well cared for, so I'll get out of your hair. If you would, give us your address when you're settled in Cicero so we can pass on the case history and have Social Services there schedule your next visit."

Jess nodded. "We will. Thanks."

As Sam showed the social worker out, Aunt Sarah nudged Jess. "See? I told you they'd be here exactly at the right time."

Jess chuckled and led Johnny into the kitchen to fix him a sandwich.

By the time Grandpa Joe, Dean, and Bobby came in with the cleaned turkey, however, the wind had shifted. That night it snowed. And Jess had to admit to herself the next morning that she wouldn't have wanted Johnny out hunting in that kind of weather.

"Morning, gorgeous," Sam said, bringing her coffee and sitting down next to her on the couch.

Jess snuggled against him for a moment before asking, "Sam, what's Indian time?"

"It's kind of a cultural concept. The hours on the clock matter less than the hours you spend with people, especially your family. Family always comes first. And if honoring your family or helping someone or something like that means you're late to a meeting or something... well, that's life."

"Hm." Jess took a sip of coffee and pondered the idea. "I... think I might could get used to that."

Sam smiled and kissed her.

* * *

Lisa didn't know what to make of the gossip that started up after the end of her last yoga class one day in mid-October. New people moving into town were always a reasonable topic of conversation in a small town, as was the location and history of the house they'd bought, but the way these newcomers were being described... it half offended her and half made her wonder whether the two men in the family—tall, brown-haired, green-eyed, native-looking guys, name of Remington—were Sam and Dean. The odds were low, she knew, since the family also included a wife and child, but she still wondered. Eventually, though, irritation won out after the third time one slur or another was tossed out in contempt.

"Excuse me," she interrupted. "My son's a quarter Navajo. I'd appreciate it if you didn't talk about people that way."

The other ladies exchanged some uncomfortable looks at that and left soon thereafter. Lisa suspected that some of them might drop the class after that, but honestly? She really didn't care.

She was still curious about the new family in town, though. As she drove home, she decided to see whether or not Ben would be up for doing the Welcome Wagon thing after supper, just to make sure the newcomers knew there was one family in town who didn't judge them by their ancestry. But then she turned the corner... and there, in her driveway, was a big black Impala with a very familiar figure leaning against it.

She'd just about managed to get her jaw re-hinged by the time she parked and got out. "Dean?!"

"Hey," Dean replied with a smile, looking far, far less stressed and burdened and _suicidal_ than he had the last time she'd seen him. "Sam and his family just moved to town, and I figured, as long as I'm here... if it's not too late... I'd take you up on that beer."

Such a simple, innocent statement, and Lisa heard every word he wasn't saying and just about burst into tears. Sam had a family now, and they came _here_ with Dean because the brothers were just like that, and Dean came back because... because he hadn't been lying. She was his idea of happiness, and now he thought he could reach for it. He'd stay if she'd have him, scars and monsters and all.

"It's never too late," she breathed and meant it with all her heart.

They were still standing in the driveway and kissing when Ben came home and practically tackled them both with a hug.

Supper with the Winchesters that night involved meeting Sam's wife Jess and their son Johnny, hearing all about what had been going on over the last three years, and Dean sheepishly admitting that he'd planned to live with Sam and Jess until he and Lisa figured out where their relationship stood. That arrangement lasted all of three dates, by which time Sam had a job at the library, Dean had a job working construction, and Jess was making plans to finish her nursing degree at one of the schools in Indianapolis. Settling into civilian life was something of a struggle for both brothers, though more so for Dean; but the boys had each other, and Jess and Lisa made a pretty good team in working with them both, as did Ben and Johnny, who made friends more readily than Lisa would have expected given the age difference.

And then they all went to Arizona for Christmas and New Year's with the Chees and Grandfather Winchester, and suddenly a whole lot of loose ends and missing pieces clicked into place for all six of them. Lisa had never really studied Navajo culture, so there were a host of surprises in store for her, but seeing the brothers and their sons out running and playing and riding and horsing around with more distant cousins... just felt right. And she and Jess had some long, deep conversations with Great-aunt Sarah that helped them all to get to know each other and the boys much better.

Finally, on the 30th, Aunt Sarah took Lisa aside after breakfast. "So, you and Dean. Has he met your family?"

Lisa nodded. "Yes, we had Thanksgiving at my sister's house. They... well, they didn't mind him, anyway. I'm not sure Mom exactly approves, but she likes Dean okay. But he's so great with Ben..."

"Do you love him?"

"I... I don't really know. I care about him. I enjoy being around him. He's... well, if Ben has any siblings in the future, you'll know we've had fun."

Aunt Sarah laughed at that. "And what do you think of the way he sees you?"

Lisa shrugged. "I think maybe he's more in love with the idea of being in love. But he's good to me. He's good to Ben. I could do worse—hell, I _have_ done worse."

Aunt Sarah nodded slowly. "If he failed you, would you be willing to just leave his things on the porch and never see him again?"

Lisa bit her lip as she pondered the question. "I think the only way he could fail me is by failing Ben. I mean, I've seen other women try to hit on him, but... he's faithful. But yeah, if he hurt Ben, I'd throw him out on his ear."

"You want him to stay, then."

"Yeah, I think I do. I mean, a guy almost dies saving the world, you expect him to have a few issues. And Sam's always going to be his first priority; Ben's always going to be mine. But... so far, it's working out. As long as we both keep trying, I think... maybe it can work."

"You're good for him."

Lisa smiled a little.

Aunt Sarah put a hand on Lisa's arm. "Listen. Joe and I have been talking it over—Dean hasn't said anything to Joe yet, but we've seen the way he looks at you and your son. And we both want you and Dean to know that if you decide to make it official, you're welcome to do it here."

Lisa floundered for a moment. "But—Sarah—he's only been back three months—"

Aunt Sarah chuckled and squeezed Lisa's arm. "We're not asking if you want to marry him tomorrow. We're just offering our hospitality if you ever do make that decision—tomorrow, next summer, next Christmas, the year after. Any time."

A small "Oh" escaped Lisa as she tried to get her head around the offer. She really didn't know if she'd ever want to be that serious about Dean, but... Ben did adore him... "Th-thanks. We'll... we'll let you know if... if we ever... get there."

"That's all I ask." Aunt Sarah patted Lisa's arm. "And you're right. You could do a lot worse." And with that, the conversation ended.

Later that afternoon, Lisa noticed Dean looking rather shell-shocked and surmised correctly that he'd just had the same conversation with his grandfather. They took a long walk and were brutally honest with each other, and in the end they decided to wait a year before they thought about it any further. "Anything can happen in a year," Dean noted, and Lisa agreed.

But the year passed in relative peace, and both Sam and Dean continued slowly acclimating to settled life in Cicero. Oh, every now and then they'd take a hunt if it was something they could do in a weekend, and some of their hunting friends would come through just to chat, but as much as Dean kept bracing for the other shoe to drop, it never did. Marriage hadn't come up again yet, but Lisa was starting to think about thinking about it as their second Christmas together came and went. By May of 2012, Jess had her LVN and a second child well on the way, which thrilled Sam no end, and Dean looked almost ready to accept that he was finally truly retired—and _safe_.

So naturally, that was when Lisa realized that she was pregnant, too.

She took several different pregnancy tests just to make sure it wasn't a matter of her mind causing her body to play tricks on her. But when even her doctor's tests came back positive, she had Ben go to a friend's house for supper and sat Dean down as soon as he came home from work.

"Dean," she said, "we need to decide now. Are we gonna do this or not?"

He gulped. "Now? What—why now?"

"Because I don't think I can handle two kids on my own. I mean, Ben was one thing, but..."

"I—y—we—s-_seriously?!_"

She nodded. "As official as it can be at this stage. Not that—"

"No, no, I... wasn't even... it's not like you would... and you know I wouldn't ever... not on purpose." He ran a hand over his nose and mouth. "Look, Lis, I've never wanted to put you in danger. But this..." He took a deep breath and let it out again before looking her in the eye. "Sam and me, we've always had targets on our backs. But the Powers That Be declared our kids off limits, and they have special angelic guardians looking out for their welfare. Now, I dunno if Ben's... but a baby? A baby needs both parents. That's why Inias made sure Sam and Jess got back together after the coast was clear."

"So you're saying..."

"As bad as it sounds out loud? Yeah. Having a baby makes us both safer than we've ever been." He took both of her hands in his own. "And even if that weren't true, I'm not walkin' out on my child, or Ben, or you. So yeah. Let's do this." Then he slid out of his seat to kneel in front of her. "Lisa Braeden, will you marry me?"

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied and kissed him.

* * *

.

* * *

Glossary

'Akée'di Hózhǫ́ Hasin – At the end there is harmony / Happily Ever After / There'll Be Peace When You Are Done

Yáát'ééh – Greetings

Wie, b'tte? – Huh? (German)

Ahéhee', shicheii – Thank you, my grandfather (_shicheii_ means "maternal grandfather," but it's also a term of respect, especially when speaking to gods and other supernatural powers)

Sha'shin, shiyázhí – Maybe, my child


End file.
